The woman, wearing a heavy wool shawl, stepped out into the early grey dawn to inspect her coops and small barn for damage. It was a fierce storm the night before.
All was well and her chickens and her goats were fine. After tending to the animals, she took the path that lead to beach and the sea. The sea was grey to reflect the bleak sky but at least the worst was now over.
She approached the shore and was alarmed at all the debris strewn across the beach. She stopped and stared at the clearing fog. The waves were full of flotsam from a ship wreck! The waters in this area were treacherous even in calm seas. But during a storm, it was almost certain death. For within the shallows, there were larger boulders just under the water's surface.
With a little excitement, she began to search the wreckage for salvage. She might find things of worth to assist in her widowed, meagre life. She found a cask of wine and a small barrel of wheat. That would come in handy with winter approaching. She found a chest that contained tools. Her eyes widened when she inspected a fine hand axe. It was Norse. Norse were fierce raiders, Vikings from the north.
She looked up and her eyes scanned the area again, her senses on full alert now. The weak sun was rising higher and she got a better look at the shore. She walked to the next pile of wreckage and that was when she saw him!
A big Norseman lay on the shore. He was big with long blonde hair, dressed in warrior clothing made of leather and animal skin. With care, she got closer and watched him for a minute. He was covered in sand and blood, his right leg bent at an unusual angle. She came closer and knelt by his side. She cautiously touched his neck, he was cold but she felt a faint pulse, the man was alive!
She looked out at the sea and said "Oh Adraste (the Goddess of Fate) what have you brought me?"
It was past midday by the time she had dragged the big man, using a fishing net she had found in her cottage. She carefully washed his limp body and dressed his wounds with poultices and bandages. She straightened his broken leg and fashioned a splint.
The woman was a healer, passed down through her family. The nearest town was a half days ride away and the villagers kept their distance and only called on her to help with a difficult birth or sick livestock. She had been married once to a fine man but the sea had taken him some years before when a storm broke out on one of his regular fishing trips. She had waited and waited for his return and her worst fears were confirmed when parts of his broken boat was washed ashore.
She preferred being alone now. She enjoyed the solitude and only ventured into town when she needed to restock her supplies. She would barter her surplus fruit, vegetables and herbal remedies in exchange for anything she needed. She also made charms to ward off bad spirits. These were always popular in the village.
They respected her, but her strange healing qualities made her an enigma, a mystery and they were uncertain of her. They needed her though, so left her in peace till a sick friend, relative or animal required her attention. And she would always help, always followed up on her patients and they were reminded how grateful they were to have her in their midst, albeit some distance away in her lone cottage on the hill by the beach and sea.
The Norseman needed her attention now and was delirious in the days and nights to come. She fed him broth and water in his semi wake moments. She soothed and bathed his sweat soaked body and trimmed his beard and moustache and nails. She cared for him, in between doing her chores, and she settled into a new routine around him.
Aluric ran through the surf, running for his life.
White skeletons chased him and were gaining ground. The sand under his feet glowed like embers, his feet burned but he ran on. Familiar voices called his name with forlorn sorrow.
Hiding in the tall grass, out of breath he looked up. The moon was a flaming skull which bellowed his name, the sound shook the ground.
The sea vanished and Aluric was on a dark plain with a flame in the distance. He ran, images of his life flashed before him like bolts of lightning.
He found himself standing in front of Yggdrasil, the ash tree of the world. And guarding it was Nidhogg the Dragon who fed on the wicked. The dragon was of orange flames, spitting fire in the pitch black. Then he opened his right talon to reveal the shining sun, opening its left talon it revealed the stars and the moon.
"Valhalla awaits you Aluric but this is not the time" Nidhogg hissed.
The Dragon's chest swelled with a mighty breath, then exhaled, engulfing Aluric in flames and sent him back to the living.
She awoke that dawn and checked on the Norseman. The night before he was near death. She had done all she could for him and expected the worse. Lighting a lamp, she was surprised to find him sleeping peacefully. She touched his forehead, he was still feverish but the colour in his skin was coming back. There was hope for him, he was through the worst.
She fetched a bowl of cool water and a cloth and cleaned up his face. His eyes flickered open and focused on her face and in a split second, grabbed the woman by the throat.
The reaction startled her and she knocked the water over him. He swore in a strange language and she took advantage of this momentary diversion and tore his hand away from her. She backed away from him and grabbed her broom, ready to strike him if he tried to attack her.
He sat up, tried to stand but the weakness of his condition made him giddy and the world tilted on its axis for a moment. He shook his head to focus on the pretty woman before him.
He spoke again, demanding where he was, who she was but her blank expression showed she did not understand his native tongue. He took in his surroundings, the simple furnishings and warm cosy fire. He saw no signs of a man here, no signs of danger and he calmed a little.
He pointed to his chest, "Aluric." He pointed to her and when she didn't answer, he repeated the actions several times. "Aluric"
She finally understood. She pointed at him "Aluric" Then at herself, "Mabilla"
He pointed at her "Mabilla" then at himself, "Aluric." He rolled his tongue around her name "Mabilla" and smiled. He looked at her and let his eyes roam over her full womanly figure. "Mabilla" He patted the bed and her eyes widened in his meaning. He wanted her in bed!
She spoke strange words at him, waved her broom and stormed from the cottage, grabbing her shawl as she went. He heard the chickens greet her outside and he laughed out loud.
He may be weak at the moment but soon, he would be strong enough to thank this strange woman who had saved his life and make her scream as a woman should scream when a man shows his gratitude.
He leaned back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He remembered the storm and the terror of not being able to reach another boat after theirs was pounded onto a rock. He saw other men make it and were hauled aboard by his countrymen before he lost consciousness.
He wondered where they were now and if they would come back for him.
Aluric improved every day and was soon sitting up in bed. The mutual distrust was still evident but eased as Aluric began to understand that this woman meant him no harm and for whatever reason had chosen to save his life. And for that he was grateful. His distrust became admiration for this woman. She lived alone and was quite self-sufficient and resourceful, not a bad cook, and quite lovely. He began to look forward to the evenings when she settled in for the night and they would work on the language barrier that separated them.
He would point out an object and say the Norse word and she would repeat in English
"Eldivor" "Firewood" "Fiskr" "Fish" "Mjol" "Flour" "Vin" "Wine"
This went on night after night and in no time they had a basic understanding of each other. One evening Mabilla returned to find Aluric standing at the door way. In her absence he had fashioned a crutch out of a tree branch and had used goat skin to make a cushion. She examined his workmanship and was impressed at his wood working and sewing skills.
Aluric was smiling and motioned for her to go inside. As she went into the cabin she smelled something cooking on the fire.
Aluric was beaming with pride. In his former life he was often tasked with making supper for his fellow raiders and never had any complaints. He was eager for Mabilla to taste his fish stew. He limped over to the bed and reached for something. Turning around he handed Mabilla something wrapped in cloth.
"Gjof" (gift) he voiced, shaking the gift in a gesture for her to take it.
She unwrapped the cloth to find two wooden spoons Aluric had carved when she left him alone to tend to chores. She was touched by the gift and smiled and thought of the Norse word and replied "Bokk" then spoke again in English "Thank you"
For the first time that night they sat at the table to have supper. Aluric watched with interest as she tasted his stew with her new spoon. It was vile but she kept her opinion to herself, touched he had made the effort to cook for her. She forced a smile to thank him. He breathed a sigh of relief. She liked his cooking too. Luckily they had wine to hide the taste.
As they ate, they talked in their mix of Norse and English. His deep laugh was infectious and she giggled at his antics as he tried to make himself understood. Mabilla's spirit soared, it had been ages since she had had company during supper.
Mabilla was startled when Aluric reached across the table and took her hand, but she did not pull away.
Aluric spoke in English "Mabilla, Thank you for my life." He kissed her hand.
Blushing, she pulled her hand away and got up suddenly, grabbed her shawl and left the cabin. The icy wind hit her face as she walked to the sea.
Her head was swimming from the wine and her pent up feelings for the man in the cottage. She laughed at herself, the best midwife and fertility Wiccan in the region and here she was, acting like a shy virgin!
From a stone ledge she stared out at the sea and moon. She pondered her feelings for the big man and realized she was falling in love with him. Would her long lost husband hold it against her in the afterlife?
Without noticing were she was standing and deep in thought, she took another step and lost her footing. Suddenly she began to slip and could not stop herself. She toppled over the edge and fell in to the deep tidal pool below!
